Nay, it is Hope
To the east of the Trade District within the northwestern reaches of Lionsgate is Old Town, the resurrected remains of the township as it originally was before the days of the Aegis and the Empire when the Shadow District was just the Kingdom of Fastheld. Though quaint, this district is a bit more rough around the edges. Pickpockets, beggars, and the impoverished try to make a living in its alleys. Though all businesses are honest, their inventories can be a bit exotic -spices, rare herbs, daggers, potent alcohol, and ripe young courtesans are all on the menu in Old Town. Fortunately, the Lionsgate guard barracks are located along the edges of Old Town, so those traveling through have little reason to worry. It is also home to the infamous Scarlet Lance - a mansion turned cabaret, notable for its dancing, drinks, stripteases, and beautiful men and women of questionable morals. More traditional establishments can be found in the southern areas of Old Town, however, as one gets closer to The Park. There the air is thick with smoke and sparks, and the ground trembles with the pounding of every anvil; but to many it feels just like a home should. A trove of weapon and armor shops line the streets, and blacksmiths create masterpieces out of common metals in many open-air plazas for the entertainment of anyone who happens to be passing by. The verdant reaches of The Park - Lionsgate's Arboretum District - can be found to the south, while the main Trade District can be found back towards the west. The towering white-stone the palisade wall can be looms to the north and east, shielding this area of the city from the forest beyond, while the monolithic Ivory Tower can be seen to the southwest, reaching towards the heavens at the other side of the city. (Courtesy of Leviathan!) The hawkers are out in force, this evening - there, a man selling live chickens. There? A woman offering various knives, kitchen and utility, for the most part. A pair of beggars work the crowd in strident tones. There, one enterprising young man barks for three women in various states of dishabille - and one young man with a sultry expression, to boot. Amid all of that, however, one older woman singles out Naoi, as others are caught in the crowd - "A splash of spice for your dinner, Lady Ordinator? Or would ye rather a bit of rosewater to entice the man who's caught your eye?" Naoi blinks, looking up, the young man getting a sharp look that is distracted by the old woman. The Ordinator's gray gaze, hardened and focused once more, focus on the woman before softening by sheer will. There is even a sickly little smile. "I am sorry, good Mistress, my mind was elsewhere. What... is it you said?" She does her best to keep the Pimp in mind and in sight. The woman's tall and straight, smiling wryly - "come, Lady - you'll be wantin' the rosewater, I expect. Suits you more -" She offers a hand, nodding to a nearby booth where a surly, rather overweight fellow arranges small and delicate bottles with a hand that wouldn't seem suitable where he not so deft at their handling. There's something searching in the woman's gaze, however - "You're alright then, Lady?" The woman's hand has odd callouses - those aren't from typical work. They're the sort you get from martial activity - blade, or mace. Naoi offers a wry look to the woman, and then the palm of the hand guiding her to the booth, then moves that way with cool confidence. She even bares her back. "I'd say, good Mistress, that I am. Sometimes, I allow myself to dream of other things. What is it you said? Perhaps... this suitor you spoke of. I am partial to short and dark and stocky with long hair. Is that your husband?" "Nay, Lady - I have not married, I've not." The woman leads her to the booth - "I doubt I ever shall - one gets old. One gets lost - and there's little time, aye?, for one not in their blushing prime as ye." The booth is filled with small vials - some spices, some simple tinctures, some perfumes - none expensive, each neatly labelled. "At least there is family. They know ye for what ye are, and watch out for ye even when ye feel alone." A nod to the table. "You'll catch your long-haired fellow with a bit of help, I am certain. See any which strike you?" There is one rosewater vial that - nearly hidden among all the others - may catch the eye. Sealed with wax as the rest are, this one has an odd symbol impressed in the tallow: a very familiar sunburst, faint but certain. Naoi looks to the table, the 'blushing' beauty considering the options with cool precision. That's a bottle, that's a bottle, that's a bottle. None of them are particularly well known to her, and the lack of instaneous choice suggest that. Of course, the neat labelling mean she spots the Rosewater before too long, gently reaching forward to take it. "So, never married... Do you have any regrets, good Mistress? That your hands never toughened tending to the wool, cleaning the clothes of your children, that now, tenderness of heart and hands that is such a part of our gender was lost not to breeding life but carrying steel that takes it?" The gauntlet brushes over the bottle, the soft chime of metal touching glass, then moves away and gently caresses the other. "Not that I am not familiar with that life. I am. Also..." The gauntlet settles on a particular vial, marked boldly with the Sunburst, plucking it up and dangling it in front of her eyes. "This." "Rose and orchid - " The woman watches, thoughtful. There's something calculating and yet hopeful in her expression. "Delicate scents, they are, Lady - all but forgot as of late. Seems to be out of fashion, but a soft spot I have for it." A pause, then, ventured, quietly - friendly. "I hoped you may be the sort interested in it - there are others who've mentioned you, they have. Even in these dark times, there's more than one watching old friends." Naoi eyes snap back to the woman, vial cradled gently in her left hand. "Rose and orchid, a strong.. but pleasant scent. You speak of old friends, old Mistress, but I do not even know your name. So, friend of old friends, you lure me here for a reason. You leave this... as a sign, surely with the intention of me spotting it. You deal with a simple woman, faithful and pious, but even I can tell that me finding this was no accident. So, is this my token... my test?" "Some chose as a family, Lady, more than just their own." The woman - reaches out for the bottle. "That I'll wrap then, aye?" But she goes on, quietly - "What do names matter? But yours, Ordinator Cloth, matters more than most." A gentle smile is offered - "You once had other siblings - sisters and brothers. Would you still call them family, or are they best forgotten?" Naoi is rarely strucken to silence, it tends to be a concious decision. The half-lidded eyes have widened, studying the woman closely. Being named, suspicion confirmed, paranoia settling in? The reasoning could be varied, or an accumulation of all of them. She is mute. When asked on the purchase, the eyes move away, seeking the man of flesh, licking dry lips. Then she offers a slow nod of acceptance. A deep breath, "You are very bold, old woman." The man has quietly replaced the bottle - keeping to his own business. He avoids the conversation, instead? He simply sees to his wares. The woman actually sighs, softly, taking the bottle to wrap it in simple cloth, busying her hands. "Bold? Perhaps. But what is risked but my own life - and one word?" Quietly, seriously - "One shadowbane yet lives, sister. The darkness is not complete. You are missed - and there are those that see you as hope, yet." A small bit of ribbon ties the wrapping closed. "Your life is in no danger - but is it wrong to hope that family is yet family?" "I can love what I strike, because I love it. It is good to hear a Bane still stands, that my sisters still live in seclusion, but what is they would do? So long the judges, when power is taken, they act like spoiled childs, withdrawing to their sanctuary and hiding. To the people, then ourselves." Naoi responds, tone low. "Somewhere, we have forgotten. That I am considered 'hope' for them shows how far the hole has been dug. Should they open their gates, I will return, should they come to terms with their transgression, they will be accepted. My sisters were my life, they taught me what it is to be hard, to be soft, to feel, and.. reject that feeling. I love what I strike, old woman, to keep it from falling farther." Her hand moves forward, to grasp the collar and jerk her close. Assuming success, it is not a blow given. But a gentle kiss to the cheek and a whispered word. "Only the certain may know devotion, but only the wise may adapt." The woman offers no resistance. Instead, her eyes are sad - "Not all are lost behind the gates, sister." And - ignoring the crowd nearby, ignoring even the fellow near, the woman .. embraces the ordinator. Firmly.. then, if allowed, steps back. "Not all were foolish. And - even where we were, we still have oaths, and we still have our duty. It is perhaps just that now we hide, sister - that where we were once prideful we must now be circumspect. But it does not change what we are, and what we defend." And she offers the bottle. "Not all are within the keep walls - but would those within open the gates but to die? Fastheld's heart is against the Light, but.. for those who are devout, the gates of Sun's Keep are indeed open." Naoi tenses, and then the hands gently sweep foward to return the embrace. Her chin even rest ever so briefly on the Perfume Vendor's shoulder. "Even now, I can hear their voices. I know the majority is not always the rule, but it... is the majority." The embrace is broken, and no struggle comes from the Ordinator. "This stinks of a trap, but hope does breed in my heart. I will test these honey'd words you offer, even if it's sweet taste is nothing more then hiding the tang of poison. Hope is a funny thing... Sweet." The purchase is considered, then with wry humor. "How much do I owe you, Old Mistress?" "What is a bauble between sisters?" The woman tucks greying hair behind her ear. "The Shadow has eclipsed the Empire, dear one - but there is Light yet within it. We still exist - and, in time, we will serve our duty again. Have faith - and light keep you. Keep your eyes open, and you /will/ see us." The faint accent is gone, her tone gentle. "The Shadow has always settled on this Empire, Old Mistress." Naoi responds, "Have Faith, and Light Keep you." The Ordinator turns away, perhaps detecting that her stay and odd behavior with the woman may have drawn some attention, but she cannot help one last look, turning back.. "Old Mistress, how is they feel about my current calling?" The woman takes one step back to the rear of that little booth before the question comes - she turns, halfway - "The Light lives in the heart, sister - regardless of the trappings it wears on the outside. Do you truly worship the Drakes that destroyed Light's Reach, that burned the Mikin Wood? Or .. do you do what you are called to do - to shed Light for others in a time of Shadow?" Naoi lowers her head, almost a bow, and this time she does move on. Perceptive individuals may notice that the fragile little bottle, filled with flavored water, is clutched to the hard iron of her chest, but cradled as well. For, inside is something much greater then some sweet smell for a suitor. Nay. It is hope. Season 7(2008) Category:Logs